Oct 19, 2024

March 1967: Gleason Introduces the Dead

DEAD LIKE LIVE THUNDER

San Francisco has become the Liverpool of America in recent months, a giant pool of talent for the new music world of rock.
The number of recording company executives casing the scene at the Fillmore and the Avalon is equalled only by the number of anthropologists and sociologists studying the Haight-Ashbury hippy culture. 
Nowhere else in the country has a whole community of rock music developed to the degree it has here. 
At dances at the Fillmore and the Avalon and the other, more occasional affairs, thousands upon thousands of people support several dozen rock 'n roll bands that play all over the area for dancing each week. Nothing like it has occurred since the heyday of Glenn Miller, Benny Goodman, and Tommy Dorsey. It is a new dancing age.
The local band with the greatest underground reputation (now that the Jefferson Airplane has gone national via two LPs and several single records) is a group of young minstrels with the vivid name, The Grateful Dead. 
Their lead guitar player, a former folk musician from Palo Alto named Jerry Garcia (see This World's cover) and their organist, harmonica player and blues singer, Pig Pen (Ron McKernan) have been pictured in national magazines and TV documentaries. Richard Goldstein in the Village Voice has referred to the band as the most exciting group in the Bay Area and comments, "Together, the Grateful Dead sound like live thunder." 
Tomorrow the Grateful Dead celebrate the release of their first album, on the Warner Brothers label. It's called simply "The Grateful Dead" and the group is throwing a record promotion party for press and radio at Fugazi Hall. 
The Dead's album release comes on the same day as their first single release, two sides from the album - "Golden Road" and "Cream Puff War." 
The Dead, as their fans call them, got their exotic name when guitarist Garcia, a learned and highly articulate man, was browsing through a dictionary. "It just popped out at me. The phrase - 'The Grateful Dead.' We were looking for a name at the time and I knew that was it." 
The Grateful Dead later discovered the name was from an Egyptian prayer: "We grateful dead praise you, Osiris..." 
Garcia, who is a self-taught guitarist ("my first instrument was an electrical guitar; then I went into folk music and played a flat top guitar, a regular guitar. But Chuck Berry was my influence!"), is at a loss to describe the band's music, despite his expressiveness. 
The Grateful Dead draws from at least five idioms, Garcia said, including Negro blues, country & western, popular music, even classical. (Phil Lesh, the bass player, is a composer who has spent several years working with serial and electronic music.) 
"He doesn't play bass like anybody else; he doesn't listen to other bass players, he listens to his head," Garcia said. 
Pig Pen, the blues vocalist, "has a style that is the sum of several styles," Garcia pointed out, including that of country blues singers such as Lightnin' Hopkins, as well as the more modern, urban blues men.
"When we give him a song to sing, it doesn't sound like someone else, it comes out Pig Pen's way." Pig Pen's father, by the way, is Phil McKernan, who for years had the rhythm & blues show on KRE, the predecessor of KPAT in Berkeley. 
Bill Sommers, the drummer, is a former jazz and rhythm & blues drummer. "He worked at the same music store I did in Palo Alto; I was teaching guitar and he was teaching drums," Garcia said. He is especially good at laying rhythms under a solo line played by the guitars. Bob Weir, the rhythm guitarist, "doesn't play that much straight rhythm," Garcia said, "he thinks up all those lovely pretty things to do."
The Dead (they were originally the Warlocks) have been playing together for over two years now. They spend at least five or six hours a day rehearsing or playing or "just fooling around," Garcia continued. 
"We're working with dynamics now. We've spent two years with loud, and we've spent six months with deafening! I think that we're moving out of our loud stage. We've learned, after these past two years, that what's really important is that the music be groovy, and if it's groovy enough and it's well played enough, it doesn't have to be too loud." 
The Dead's material comes from all the strains in American music. "We'll take an idea and develop it; we're interested in form. We still feel that our function is as a dance band and that's what we like to do; we like to play for dancers. We're trying to do new things, of course, but not arrange our material to death. I'd say we've stolen freely from everywhere, and we have no qualms about mixing our idioms. You might hear some traditional style classical counterpoint cropping up in the middle of some rowdy thing, you know!" 
The eclectic electric music has won the Dead its Warner Brothers contract, offers of work in films, a dedicated group of fans who follow them faithfully, and the prospect of national tours, engagements in New York and elsewhere. But Garcia, who is universally loved by the rock musicians and fans, is characteristically calm about it all. "I'm just a student guitar player," he concluded, "I'm trying to get better and learn how to play. We're all novices."

(by Ralph Gleason, from the San Francisco Chronicle, March 19, 1967)



Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead - Digital Collections - Northwestern University Libraries

3 comments:

  1. A significant early article on the Dead - I think I hadn't included it before because it was already printed in the Grateful Dead Reader.
    Ralph Gleason was a champion of San Francisco bands like the Airplane & the Dead - he'd covered the Dead in various 1966 show reviews, but now that their album is coming out, he gives them their own article and some extra publicity among Chronicle readers.
    Garcia's quotes are drawn from a long interview with Gleason, who would publish it in the 1969 book The Jefferson Airplane and the San Francisco Sound. (It's also in the Grateful Dead Reader.)

    Gleason's frame of reference was the jazz big-band days of the '30s-'40s, so he'll often drop comparisons to the jazzmen of yore in his articles. It was pretty rare for an "elder" journalist like him (he was then 50) to talk about how great the local underground rock scene was. Though at the same time, there's also some insularity in his viewpoint - San Francisco is The Best, "the Liverpool of America," and those other cities just don't measure up! (As he'd complain to Garcia, "Those bands still do it wrong from L.A. I don't know what the hell it is. They look wrong.")

    Naturally the article was illustrated with a picture of a surly-looking Pigpen, the "face" of the Dead in those days. But the article also sees the beginning of a longer-term trend, where Garcia would become the "highly articulate" spokesman of the Dead, the guy who did all the interviews. And from the start, Garcia's eager to say that he's just a student trying to get better.
    Gleason emphasizes the variety in the Dead's music, their "mixed idioms." This is something that jumped out to some early listeners - even David Grisman back in '65, who'd noticed "they were doing bluegrass songs, they were doing Bob Dylan, they were putting this roots music in the context of rock 'n roll."
    Garcia prematurely says "we're moving out of our loud stage," but the band would only get louder in '67 and discover the charms of feedback, part of the escalating battle-of-the-amps among '60s bands. (I forget what interview it was where Garcia was asked why they played so loud and he said it was like a dog hanging its head out a speeding car window.)
    It's funny to hear that even when the Dead had barely left San Francisco, they already had "a dedicated group of fans who follow them faithfully." (Their first fan-club newsletter would be printed a month later, but they'd already had Pigpen t-shirts for sale since '66.)
    The Dead had indeed been getting "offers of work in films" before their album came out - for Skidoo (which they rejected), The President's Analyst (also turned down), and Petulia (accepted, and filmed that spring). Oddly enough, I think the offers ceased for a couple of years after that.

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  2. I think the dog hanging its head out the window thing was the Studs Terkel interview in 1979.

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    1. It was!
      "I've always liked volume. A friend of mine who's a guitar player once said that playing loud is like a dog sticking its head out a car window at 60 miles an hour. It has a sort of physical side to it that's a lot of fun."

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